


Red Roses

by Steph_Rob94



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph_Rob94/pseuds/Steph_Rob94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three months after the death of Maeve Donovan, Spencer Reid still visits her grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this piece.

Spencer Reid grabbed the roses he had purchased from his passenger seat before he climbed out of the car. The sounds of happily singing birds and the heat of the sun on his face seemed so wrong; because, for him, it was always raining. Storm clouds had been dancing overhead ever since her death. He sidestepped tombstones, careful not to step onto a single grave. Then, he reached hers and sank to his knees. He ran his fingertips over her name. The cement of the stone was hard and cold in the chill of fall, but he hardly felt it. He lingered on the “M” before letting his hand drop. Spencer cleared his throat and placed the red roses onto her grave.

“It’s me again,” Spencer stated. The lump in his throat seemed like a permanent fixture now. It had been three months, but the pain was still as fresh as if he had happened yesterday. “I brought you some roses. I remember you telling me they were your favorite,” his throat constricted again. He swallowed. His brown eyes clenched closed tightly as he fought the rush of grief that threatened to silence him. “It’s been three months, but I still remember everything about you.” Slowly, he began to lose the fight against his grief. Tears spilled from his eyes; they became cold as the wind pushed against him. “I want you to know…” His voice was muffled by the stress of his tears. “That I still dream of you, especially of that night…”

The dreams of dancing had faded, but they were replaced by something more devastating. Every night, he would save her; every morning after that, the devastation at realizing it was nothing but a dream would threaten to keep him in bed. His hand spread out over the top of the stone. He couldn’t speak through his tears now. He rested his forehead onto his hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let you go…” He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to try. Then, he heard her voice as if it were a whisper on the wind.

"I want you to try." In reality, Maeve had made that statement on the night before her death. They hadn't been talking. They were just sitting there basking in the happiness and tranquility that came with being in one another's presence. Maeve had interrupted it with a small statement: "If anything were to happen to me, I want you to try and move on." He had told her then that nothing would happen, that he would keep her safe. He had lied. He choked out a heavy sob. He had failed her. 

Later, he would see that there was hope at the end of the tunnel. All one would have to do is look toward Aaron Hotchner.  

**Author's Note:**

> I edited this work because it felt strangely incomplete.


End file.
